suggested by Thomson's "Seasons," but it is the mould only; the
thoughts and feelings which are poured into it are his own. He loves
the giddy ride over stock and stone, hedge and petty precipice; the
invigoration which the keen breath of autumn or winter, like that of a
sturdy veteran, gives the animal spirits; the animated aspect of the
"assembled jockeyship of half a province;" the wild music of hounds, and
horns, and hollas, vieing with each other in mirth and loudness; the
breathless interest of the start; the emulous pant of the coursers; the
excitement of the moment when the fox appears; the sweeping tumult of the
pursuit; the dreamlike rapidity with which five-barred gates are cleared,
the yellow or naked woods are passed, and the stubble-ridges "swallowed
up in the fierceness and rage" of the rushing steeds; the indifference of
those engaged in the headlong sport to the danger or even the death of
their companions; the lengthening and deepening howl of the hounds as
they near their prey; the fierce silence of the dying victim; and the
fiercer shout of victory which announces to the echoes that the brush
is won, and the glorious (or inglorious) day's work is over;--all this
Somerville loves, and has painted with considerable power. In the course
of the poem, he sings also of the mysteries of the dog-kennel--pursues
the blood-hound on his track of death--describes a stag-hunt in Windsor
Forest--paints the fearful phenomena of canine madness--hunts the hare in
a joyous spirit--and goes down after the otter into its watery recesses,
and watches its divings and devious motions as with the eyes of a
sea-eagle. And, besides, (here also imitating Thomson,) he is led away
from the comparatively tame "Chase" of England to the more dangerous
and more inspiring sports of other lands, where "the huntsmen are up in
Arabia," in pursuit of the wolf, where the bear is bayed amidst forests
dark as itself, where the leopard is snared by its own image in a mirror,
where the lion falls roaring into the prepared pit, and where the "Chase"
is pursued on a large scale by assembled princes amidst the jungles of
India.

We doubt not, however, that, were a genuine poet of this age taking up
the "Chase" as a subject for song, and availing himself of the accounts
of recent travellers, themselves often true poets, such as Lloyd,
Livingstone, Cumming Bruce, and Charles Boner, (see the admirable
"Chamois Hunting in Bavaria" of the latter,) he